Unorthodox Matchmakers: Draco's Thoughts on Her
by Acara Whitefox
Summary: Based on Unorthodox Matchmakers by Phoenix Soar. Because all that Potter would ever see when she looked his way was the son of a Death Eater. DracoxFem!Harry
1. Chapter 1: First Sight

**I'm admitting it. I am a gender bending fan.**

**I was searching for a really good fem!Harry fic a while back and I came across one called Unorthodox Matchmakers by Phoenix Soar (famed author of My Type of Women, Edward Elric: Storyteller Extraordinaire, and Into the Void). It's a Post-Second War fic, featuring a Girl-Who-Lived who is trying to become ordinary after defeating Lord Voldemort only to find that her troubles have only just begun. A ring appears on her hand one day, transforming her arch-rival Draco Malfoy into her future fiance. Now I'm sure some of you are thinking: come one Whitefox, it's just that same old worn out plotline where to two characters who hate each other instantly fall in love after becoming engaged.**

**Wrong! Harry (or rather Hariah) isn't exactly impressed by this new development and Draco is battling with feelings that he has suppressed for far too long for him to be able to act on them properly. There is confusion, angst, and jealousy, but at the same time they make attempts at bringing their two waring houses together.**

**And even if you aren't a fan of DracoxFem!Harry, watching Seamus Finnegan trying to court Millicent Bulstrode totally makes it worth it.**

**So in honour of Phoenix's great work, I present to you Unorthodox Matchmakers: Draco's Thoughts on Her, a series of oneshots that absolutely refused to leave my mind until I decided to write them down.**

_**First Sight**_** occurs during Philosopher's Stone.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to the Harry Potter series. They belong to the great lady, J. K. Rowling. I also do not own the rights to Unorthodox Matchmakers. Those belong to Phoenix Soar. Go worship her fic.**

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**_First Sight…_**

Draco Malfoy's mother had just left him at _Madam Malkin's Robes for all Occasions_ when a scruffy black haired girl with glasses stumbles her way on to the footstool beside him. The shop keeper slips on one of the long robes that they always have at hand over her head and begins to pin it to the correct length.

"Hello," Draco says politely. He doesn't really know why he strikes up a conversation with the girl who's obviously on the other end of the social class spectrum. Maybe it's because he is bored out of his mind, "Hogwarts too?"

"Yes," the girl replies, green eyes shifting uncomfortably around the shop.

"My father's next door buying my books and mother's up the street looking at wands," he informs her, "Then I'm going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don't see why first years can't have their own. I think I'll bully father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow."

When she doesn't answer, Draco asks, "Have _you_ got your own broom?"

"No."

"Play Quidditch at all?"

"No."

"I do," he smirked, "Father says it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for my house, and I must say, I agree. Know what house you'll be in yet?"

Their conversation continued in that fashion, with him providing most of the dialogue and the girl answering simply. Draco does find out that the girl is an orphan, but had magical parents. She likes that _savage_ of a games-keeper, which he thinks is ridiculous (after all, just look at him; he must be at least four times her size). She leaves, though, before he can find out her name.

He tracks her down on the train and offers the girl his hand in friendship.

"You'll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others," Draco sneers, looking pointedly at the Weasley boy beside her as he holds out his hand. But she doesn't take it. Instead she says something that's more painful then a slap to the face.

"I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks."

Draco doesn't believe it: she'd said no to him. Him. A Malfoy! Impossible! No one said no to a Malfoy.

And yet…

It's only after Goyle's howling from Weasley's rat biting him has diminished to a whimper and they're safely back in their compartment that Draco Malfoy comes to the conclusion that he just talked to Hariah Potter, the Girl-Who-Lived.

His next thought is that he absolutely hates her.


	2. Chapter 2: Not Right

**Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to the Harry Potter series. They belong to the great lady, J. K. Rowling. I also do not own the rights to Unorthodox Matchmakers. Those belong to Phoenix Soar. Go worship her fic.**

**_Not Right_ occurs during Philosopher's Stone.**

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**_Not Right…_**

He doesn't know why he's here, standing at the foot of her hospital bed when he could be outside enjoying the after-exam weekend. If he could provide an explanation, he would. Really. Draco just didn't have one at the moment.

So he stands there, taking in Potter's sleeping form. She's paler then usual, her hair (cut just beneath her ears) is still scruffy, and occasionally she twitches as if in pain. Draco's hand clenches at his side and he grinds his teeth.

He can't deny it.

This wasn't right.

Potter was supposed to be the girl he remembered from when he tossed Longbottom's remembrall an impossible distance away and she _still_ managed to catch it, looking gleeful and happy as she flew through the air. Potter was supposed to be the girl that managed to hold on to her broomstick as it bucked out of her control during her first Quidditch game and still manage to catch – _almost swallow_ – the Snitch.

Hariah Potter wasn't supposed to be on a hospital bed looking weak and frail and…just not her.

Draco glances at the clock hanging on the wall to his left, noting that it was almost lunch time. If he did't leave soon, someone would notice his absence and come looking for him.

So just as he is about to turn and leave, Draco sets a box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans on her bed side table next to the ever growing pile of candy and get well cards.

"You're not pretty," he thinks out loud as he leaves, "You're not."


	3. Chapter 3: No Way

**Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to the Harry Potter series. They belong to the great lady, J. K. Rowling. I also do not own the rights to Unorthodox Matchmakers. Those belong to Phoenix Soar. Go worship her fic.**

_**No way**_** occurs during Chamber of Secrets**

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**_No Way…_**

Draco Malfoy has always respected Severus Snape. On occasion, one could almost say that Draco likes the potions master. Today, however, that changes entirely.

Today, when Professor Snape absolutely trounces Gilderoy Lockhart in a duel with _Expelliarmus_ of all things, Draco down right loves him.

What makes it even better was that he's close enough to hear Potter and Granger squealing through their fingers, "Do you think he's alright?"

He almost catches himself agreeing with Weasley when the red head mutters, "Who cares?"

But then Draco decides that he's willing to propose to Snape when the man suggests that he and Potter be partners. He really should have realized that this farce of a duelling club was too good to be true.

When he shouts "_Serpensortia!_" at the very beginning of their duel, the blonde is astounded by the complete lack of fear on Potter's end. Didn't girls usually freak out when confronted with a large snake? Instead Potter's green eyes are filled with something that could almost be called intrigue.

And then she starts to hiss.

At first it doesn't click in his head what is going on, but slowly he realizes that the noises that are coming out of Potter's mouth are not random. Instead it sounds almost like she was speaking…

No way…

No way, no way, _no way_!

Potter couldn't be…she can't be…

She's a Parselmouth.

Hariah Potter, the scrawny, little, not-pretty, Girl-Who-Lived (who was being quickly ushered out of the Hall by Granger and Weasley), had spoke in the legendary tongue of Salazar himself.

"_How in the world did that girl get out of Slytherin?"_ Draco wonders, his tone more venomous then he intends it to be.


	4. Chapter 4: Falling

**Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to the Harry Potter series. They belong to the great lady, J. K. Rowling. I also do not own the rights to Unorthodox Matchmakers. Those belong to Phoenix Soar. Go worship her fic.**

**_Falling_ occurs during Prisoner of Azkaban.**

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**_Falling…_**

Draco Malfoy has and will never claim to be a seer, but even he should have known that something was going to go terribly wrong during the Gryffindor vs. Hufflepuff Quidditch game with the twisting in his stomach.

For one, the rain is coming down in sheets and the wind is blowing so hard that players are having a hard time flying. Within five minutes, his umbrella is stolen by the wind and he is soaked through his clothing. Draco can barely keep up with the game, the wind had almost drowned out the commentary and he can barely see the players through his omnioculars.

Then a horrifyingly familiar wave of cold washes over the crowd, and people begin to scream.

Draco feels sick, like he is going to throw up but can't. He remembers horrible things: like the time he fell off his broom just before his tenth birthday and broke his leg. Or that time when his father's old Death Eater "friend", Macnair, came over and snapped a bird's neck with his bare hands because it was making to much noise. Or during the final days of his first year, when the whole school watched as Dumbledore floated Hariah Potter's limp body to the hospital wing from the third floor corridor…

"Potter!"

"Oh Merlin, Harry!"

"Somebody, help her!"

The screams have changed, and Draco's stomach twists on itself even more as he just makes out Potter plummeting towards the ground, having fallen off of her broom. One of the Weasley twins is streaking towards her as fast as he can, trying to get under her in order to catch her. Dumbledore's voice, loud enough to be heard over the both the wind and the crowd, calls out a spell that he does not recognize and Potter slows in her decent.

It is only after he watches the teachers and Gryffindor team carry Potter off to the hospital wing that Draco realizes that he has been gripping his omnioculars so hard that he cracked the lens.


	5. Chapter 5: Smiling

**Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to the Harry Potter series. They belong to the great lady, J. K. Rowling. I also do not own the rights to Unorthodox Matchmakers. Those belong to Phoenix Soar. Go worship her fic.**

**_Smiling_ occurs during Prisoner of Azkaban**

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**_Smiling…_**

Draco Malfoy should be furious. He should be seething and red faced and ready to kill any poor fool who dared wear the colours of Gryffindor.

He really, _really_ should be.

But he isn't.

Why?

Because Potter is smiling.

Gryffindor had just won the Quidditch Cup, beating Slytherin two hundred and thirty to twenty. Draco had almost caught the snitch, but at the last moment, Potter had knocked his hand out of the way and snatched up the golden ball and ended the game.

And now Potter is smiling and laughing and jumping up and down and –

The Weasley twins tackle the girl into the ground in what could be called a hug if you squinted really hard. Johnson, Spinnet, and Bell burst out into song, "_We won the cup! We one the cup!_" Wood looks ready to kiss Potter, but barely restrains himself and begins weeping on her shoulder. And then Potter is holding the Cup above her head and still smiling as Weasley and Granger fight their way towards her.

Then Potter looks over at the Slytherin team and for once there was no hatred in her eyes. Just pure, unadulterated joy and that causes Draco's heart to clench uncomfortably and his breath to quicken in a way that has nothing to do with tiredness.

And he finds himself smiling with her.


	6. Chapter 6: Crush

**Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to the Harry Potter series. They belong to the great lady, J. K. Rowling. I also do not own the rights to Unorthodox Matchmakers. Those belong to Phoenix Soar. Go worship her fic.**

**_Crush_ occurs in Goblet of Fire**

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**_Crush…_**

When Snape announces that on Christmas Eve the traditional Yule Ball would be held, Draco (along with ever other male in a five hundred mile radius) feels a wave of dread pass over him. Despite being an aristocrat that had attended many balls and galas before, Draco has never really liked them. In fact, he could not name another man who did.

He ends up asking Pansy Parkinson, the girl who is under the misguided impression that since they occasionally make out with each other means they are a couple. He would have asked one of the Greengrass sisters, but the elder is doing with Blaise and the younger is…well…too young.

He had been walking towards the library when he comes across Potter and Diggory in the hall. He nearly walks away, but stops when he sees something that he never thought was possible.

Potter is blushing.

Her face is red and her hands are twisting behind her back and…is she?

Yes…yes she is…

Potter is positively stuttering.

Draco can't believe it: Potter has a crush on Diggory. Potter has a _crush_ on Diggory.

Potter has a _crush_ on _Diggory_.

Cedric "Model-Hufflepuff-who-is-dating-Cho-Chang" Diggory.

And she is asking him to the bloody Ball!

Draco never makes it to the library. He storms out of the castle, glaring at anybody who dared get in his way. He makes it to the lake without seriously injuring anyone and throws his book bag onto the ground. Draco tears off his "Support Cedric Diggory" badge and stares at it for a good twelve minutes before chucking it into the water.

He tells himself that he is not jealous. He is not jealous of Diggory, not at all. Draco knows in his heart that that is a lie, but blatant denial is a lot better than the other alternative of telling the truth.


	7. Chapter 7: Dress

**Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to the Harry Potter series. They belong to the great lady, J. K. Rowling. I also do not own the rights to Unorthodox Matchmakers. Those belong to Phoenix Soar. Go worship her fic.**

**_Dress_ occurs in Goblet of Fire**

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**_Dress…_**

Pansy is clingy, almost annoyingly so. Draco regrets coming, but then he is a Malfoy and is therefore obliged to come to these sorts of things to keep up his image of wealth and power. Couples are arriving, Draco spots Longbottom and the Weasley girl coming through the door with one of the twins – _Fred, he believes_ – coming in behind with Johnson, the Gryffindor catcher. Several girls from Beauxbatons have snagged dates from both Durmstrang and Hogwarts, while others appear to be going with boys from their own school.

Draco sneers when he sees Weasley dressed in his ridiculous set of dress robes, with a Ravenclaw girl that he recognizes from one of his classes. The poor girl is obviously embarrassed to be there, but not as much as Weasley himself, who's face is so red that it looks like the boy is about to spontaneously combust any second now.

Just then, the musicians pick up their instruments and begin to play a slightly upbeat song as the Triwizard Champions start to come in.

And Draco's mouth goes absolutely dry at the sight of Hariah Potter.

Dressed in a green and silver gown (_"Slytherin colours,"_ his mind whispers to him), Potter's hair has finally been tamed and is held back by a golden clasp showing off her long neck. Her glasses are gone, revealing her eyes – _had they always been that green?_ – accented by just a hint of make up. Leading her by the arm is the other Weasley twin, George, who flashes a grin at both of his brothers, whose jaws drop.

Instantly, Draco is reminded of what he muttered to her sleeping form in the hospital wing during their first year.

"You're not pretty," he had said. And he was right.

Potter isn't pretty. Pretty was for things like butterflies and children's crayon artwork.

Potter isn't pretty. Potter is beautiful.

And that is when Draco realizes that it is going to take a very, _very_ long time for him to get the image of the youngest Triwizard Champion _in_ _that dress_ out of his mind.


	8. Chapter 8: Scared

**Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to the Harry Potter series. They belong to the great lady, J. K. Rowling. I also do not own the rights to Unorthodox Matchmakers. Those belong to Phoenix Soar. Go worship her fic.**

**_Scared_ occurs in Order of the Phoenix**

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**_Scared…_**

Draco Malfoy has, in his entire life, been truly scared four times.

The first time occurred during his first year at Hogwarts, serving a detention with Potter, Granger, and Longbottom for sneaking out of the dorms at night to catch _them_ sneaking a dragon out of the castle. After switching up Potter for Longbottom as partners to go find an injured unicorn, the two of them came across something that could only be called evil itself. It was _drinking_ unicorn blood, something that only a madman would do, and looked as if it was going to kill them and enjoy it and –

Potter had thrown herself in front of him in a terribly Gryffindor attempt at bravery and – _Draco had never felt so small in his entire life because this stupidstupidamazing girl who hated him more than anything _– was trying to shield him from Merlin knows what and he was scared of both the thing and what this could mean.

So he runs, screaming at the top of his lungs, towards the gamekeeper and Potter's little gang of friends.

The second time had been on the first day of the summer after his second year. His father had come home raving about Potter and how the stupid, arrogant, brat of a child had lost him his job and their servant of a house elf, Bolly (or something like that). Draco's father had been so angry that his mother had told him to go to his room and stay there until she came to get him.

He had curled up on his bed, listening to his parents screaming back and forth at each other before it suddenly went silent. Five minutes later, his mother – _the ever calm Narcissa Malfoy _- came to get him. But instead of leading him down stairs, she wrapped her arms around him and cried softly on his shoulder.

The third time happened during the Quidditch World Cup when Draco wakes up, not to the sound of over zealous sports fans, but to screams of terrified people. He can't find his parents and he smells smoke and…and…

Oh no…

Death Eaters. Real, live Death Eaters. Death Eaters with _the_ black cloaks and _the_ skull masks. Death Eaters that Draco had only ever heard about in stories and tales.

And now they're real.

And Draco Malfoy is scared of what he must become.

The fourth and final time, Draco is not surrounded by ghosts of his father's past or monsters of the Forbidden Forest. He is not battling good or evil; he is not even facing anyone at all.

Draco is lying on his bed in the Slytherin common room in the middle of the night and realizes that he is absolutely obsessed with Hariah Potter.

He can't get her out of his head. Potter was just…there…all the time. Whether it was about the next Quidditch match against Gryffindor or their next class together, Draco always had to say something to her. Just to get her to look at him, to pay attention to him.

He wanted her attention, like when a boy pulls on a girl's pigtails so she will turn around and glare.

Any reaction was a good reaction.

Because hearing her shout at him, seeing her look at him, was a lot better than the days that Potter completely ignored him.

Those were the days that he would catch himself watching her at Hogsmeade or walking in the hallways, holding hands and laughing with Weasley and Granger. The days that he wanted to kick them away from Potter and take their place because…because…

Because he was a jealous, possessive bastard and wanted to be Potter's best friend.

Maybe…maybe even something more.

But he couldn't. The time to gain her friendship (or anything else) was long gone and she would never accept him into her life. Ever.

Because all that Potter would ever see when she looked his way was the son of a Death Eater.

"I hate her," Draco muttered, trying to convince himself of something that he knew was not true, "I hate her. I hate her. I hate you, Hariah Potter. Damn you to hell."

Draco doesn't know why he feels hollow that night. He doesn't know why he cries himself to sleep either.

However, he does know why he joins the Inquisitorial Squad the next day.

He can't change that much overnight.


	9. Chapter 9: Truth

**Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to the Harry Potter series. They belong to the great lady, J. K. Rowling. I also do not own the rights to Unorthodox Matchmakers. Those belong to Phoenix Soar. Go worship her fic.**

**_Truth_ occurs in Half-Blood Prince**

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**_Truth…_**

Draco didn't know when he started seeing the ghost of the mudblood girl who, fifty years ago, had been murdered by whatever was in the Chamber of Secrets as a friend. He didn't know when he stopped seeing Granger and Weasley as a muggle born and a blood traitor. He didn't know when the social classes of who was better than who had collapsed around him and showed him what he had truly became.

A monster.

His plan, which is stupid in every way, shape, and form, is to kill Albus Dumbledore, one of the greatest wizards of all time. He has already tried and failed miserably to curse the old man through a necklace and poison him through a bottle of wine. Draco knows that they would never have worked; no matter what the Dark Lord thinks of Dumbledore, the man is powerful and his attempts at his life are probably about as threatening as a flobberworm.

So here he is, crying his eyes out to the ghost-girl, Myrtle, scared out of his mind because if he fails the mission that the Dark Lord – _his master, Draco thought in distaste _– gave him, he would be killed.

"Don't," croons Myrtle, "Don't…tell me what's wrong…I can help you…"

"No one can help me," Draco says back, hunching over the sink in an attempt not to throw up, "I can't do it…I can't…it won't work…and unless I do it soon…he says he'll kill me…"

"Malfoy?" a voice that didn't belong to Moaning Myrtle comes from behind him and Draco's eyes widen as he catches the reflection of – _Oh Merlin, not her! Anyone but her!_

He wheels around, drawing his wand from his sleeve and throws a hex her way, missing by inches and shattering a lamp that hangs on the wall. She casts a jinx, only to have him block it – _and Draco is vaguely aware of Myrtle's screams but he can't seem to care because _–

The bin behind her just exploded and the Leg-Locker Curse that she fires hit the wall behind his ear. Remembering what his Aunt Bellatrix taught him about the Unforgivables ("You've got to mean them, Draco…"), he gathers all of his hatred surrounding Hariah Potter and shouts, "Cruci-"

"SECTUMSEMPRA!" Potter yells from her position on the floor.

White pain floods Draco's mind as blood spurts from his face and chest, feeling as if the girl had taken a sword to him instead of a spell. He topples backwards, hair falling out of place, wand tumbling from his hand.

"No," Potter gasps from somewhere in front of him and suddenly Draco's fading vision is filled with green and black. She is looking at him, paying attention to him, and for the first time in six damn years Hariah Potter is gazing at him with something other than loathing in her eyes.

"No," she moans again, "I didn't…I…

"I'm sorry…"

She's apologising, over and over, but that doesn't even begin to register because for some odd reason that lock of hair that has fallen in front of her eyes is far more annoying then the fact that he is bleeding to death on the cold floor of a girl's bathroom. So Draco reaches up with a trembling hand and tucks it behind her ear, ignoring her wide eyes and sudden intake of breath. His ignores Myrtle's screaming. He ignores everything.

Because if the face of Hariah Potter is the last thing that he is ever going to see, then death just might be worth it.

But then the door to the bathroom slams open and Potter is looking the other way. Draco lets out a cry (Of anger? Of disappointment?) as Snape pushes her aside and kneels beside him. His wounds knit back together with a spell and the potions master lifts him up to carry him to the hospital wing.

Draco tries not to think about this momentary lapse of weakness ever again.


	10. Chapter 10: Eyes

**Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to the Harry Potter series. They belong to the great lady, J. K. Rowling. I also do not own the rights to Unorthodox Matchmakers. Those belong to Phoenix Soar. Go worship her fic.**

**_Eyes_ occurs in Deathly Hallows**

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**_Eyes…_**

Draco thought that the only time that he would every feel tiny and inadequate was when Hariah Potter tried to shield him from the _thing_ in the Forbidden Forest by jumping in front of him.

He is wrong.

So very _wrong_.

"They say they've got Potter," his mother's voice –_ colder than he has ever heard it before_ – calls him out from the chair that he is sitting on in front of the fireplace, "Draco, come here."

Draco, pale and frightened and unbelievably small, shuffles towards the prisoners. The werewolf, Greyback, forces one of them under the chandelier and, _oh Merlin_!

It's Potter. They've caught Potter.

And what in the world happened to her face?

"Well, Draco?" his father asks, "Is it? Is it Hariah Potter?"

"_Of course it's her,"_ Draco thinks, _"Of course it's her."_ Even though her eyes are just slits he can still see the green of her irises. He would always be able to recognise them.

"I can't – I can't be sure," he lies, looking away from the girl as quickly as he can.

"But look at her carefully, look! Come closer!" he had never heard his father so excited before, "Draco, if we are the ones who hand Potter over to the Dark Lord, everything will be forgive-"

Greyback cuts his father off, saying something about "who actually caught her." The elder Malfoy impatiently reassures the man before moving closer to the girl.

"What did you do to her? How did she get into this state?"

"That wasn't us."

"Looks more like a Stinging Jinx to me," his father paused before whispering, "There's something there…it could be the scar, stretched tight…Draco, come here, look properly! What do you think?"

And suddenly he finds himself the closest that he has ever been to Potter since she sliced his chest open in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. It definitely her, in fact it's so obvious that he can't believe that his father needs him to confirm it.

"I don't know," Draco says, turning away and heading back towards his mother who is standing by the fireplace.

For the life of him, Draco could not tell you why he lied just then.

It isn't until the chandelier is exploding above them from the spell that their old house elf cast and Potter is yanking his wand from his grasp that Draco comes up with an answer.

"_I don't want her to die…"_


	11. Chapter 11: Flying

**Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to the Harry Potter series. They belong to the great lady, J. K. Rowling. I also do not own the rights to Unorthodox Matchmakers. Those belong to Phoenix Soar. Go worship her fic.**

**_Flying_ occurs in Deathly Hallows**

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**_Flying…_**

Draco Malfoy feels like he's dying.

"Hariah Potter is dead," Lord Voldemort's amplified voice sounds throughout the halls of Hogwarts School, "She was killed as she ran away, trying to save herself while you lay down your lives for her. We bring you her body as proof that your heroine is gone."

The voice – he refuses to acknowledge that _thing_ as his master now – goes on, calling for resistance forces to kneel before him or they would be killed. They would be part of a "new world," Voldemort called it.

"Liar," Draco whispers, sitting on one of the larger pieces of stone that had fallen into the Entrance Hall. He can see Weasley – _"And that's the second time we've saved your life tonight, you two-faced bastard!"_ – and Granger – _"We found it – we found it – PLEASE!"_ – sitting together hand in hand from where he is. Longbottom – _"I told you once that I am worth twelve of you, Malfoy. Do you believe me now?"_ - is helping up a Ravenclaw boy that stayed behind to fight. The Weasley girl, Ginerva, - _"Coward! You don't like You-Know-Who any more than we do! Stand and fight!"_ - is staring dumb-founded at the ceiling, taking in what the voice just said.

"Liar," Draco whispers again, and it's stronger this time. Voldemort is a liar, because Potter would have never run away. Potter had faced the Dark Lord in the Forbidden Forest and in the Third Floor corridor in her first year, saving the Philosopher's Stone from Professor Quirrell. Potter had found the Chamber of Secrets, battled a centuries old basilisk, and dragged Ginny Weasley back from its depths. Potter had faced off against a hundred Dementors to save her godfather. Potter had won the Triwizard Tournament, watched Cedric Diggory die in front of her and duelled Lord Voldemort himself to a stand still in a graveyard. Potter had founded Dumbledore's Army, entered the Department of Mysteries, and came out alive. Potter had _been there_, on top of the Astronomy Tower and watched as Albus Dumbledore had plummeted to the ground after Snape had killed him.

Potter had fought and fought and fought…and to say that she had run away...

…Draco decided right then and there that if he ever got his hands on Lord Voldemort (even though he was a Slytherin and she had hated him and he was a Death Eater and a son of a Death Eater and a down right coward) he would rip the Dark Lord apart with his bare hands.

People are screaming now. Longbottom is standing frozen before the Death Eaters, the Sorting Hat aflame on his head. Voldemort and the rest of the man's twisted version of a family is laughing and…

Potter is lying at his feet.

Potter is _lying_ at his feet.

Potter is _lying_ at his _feet_.

That son of a bitch!

As Draco lunges forward, chaos erupts around him. Curses and jinxes and shrieks of rage fill the air as the two sides converge on each other once more. He is running straight towards where Potter lies on the grass. He has to see her again. He has to. He needs to see her.

She's not there.

The spot where Potter once occupied is empty. Draco looks around wildly, searching for black hair and pale skin. He finds himself mirroring the calls of the Care of Magical Creatures professor, calling the Girl-Who-Lived by her nickname instead of surname, "HARRY! HARRY! WHERE'S HARRY!"

"_Where is she?"_ Draco wonders, clawing at the earth in hopes that she will spring from the ground, _"Where is she? It's not as if she can just walk off-"_

And then it hits him.

"_It's not as if she can just walk off…"_

His mother and father appear from behind, grabbing his arms and try to pull him from the battlefield.

"…_she can just walk off…"_

"Draco," his mother calls softly, "Dragon, please!"

"…_walk off…"_

He figures it out a moment before Hogwarts erupts with cries of "She's alive!" and "Harry!" Draco whips around and sees _her_.

Hariah Potter stands before Lord Voldemort, long, tangled hair blowing in the wind and green eyes ablaze. She stands before the darkest wizard to ever exist since Gellert Grindelwald in 1945 looking just like the scruffy black haired girl who walked into _Madam Malkin's_ seven years ago and at the same time looking like anything but.

But one thing can be certain: right there, Hariah Potter is the most beautiful thing Draco had ever seen in his entire life.

And Draco Malfoy feels like he's flying.


End file.
